Pandora's Box
by Wincest413
Summary: This is a Supernatural Collection of my miscellaneous Drabbles\One-shots that I have begun to do that I think shouldn't hold as a story on their own. "Sam and Dean Winchester are far from normal people, and not everyone can explain what goes on in some of their daily business. I am only here to try." So, this is some of my Fluff and Randomness in the making. Hope you like!
1. Wincest: What's Goin' On, Man?

**Title: **What's Goin' On, Man?

**Author:** D.R. Ward

**Age: **14

**Date: ** 9-16-13

* * *

**Summery: ** Dean had caught Sam acting strange for a while now. At first, he thought he could just brush it off and give Sam some privacy, but wherever he went he found that Sam was leaving in the wee hours of the morning for something uncanny. But...What was it, again? God, was he determined to find out. And well, as he did...Dean Winchester realized it was the best fucking mistake he had ever tumbling upon in his entire damned life.

**What's Goin' On, Man?**

_Drabble._

~oOo~

_Third Person POV_

* * *

Dean wasn't sure if he should believe his eyes at that very moment. There, of course, once was a time that the twenty-six year old Winchester was able to trust his eyes with anything and everything around him - supernatural or not - but this was certainly not the time to actually believe what he was seeing before him. Because if he did, by any chance, trust and believe what he was seeing, he would be so turned on right now he would've been shocked if he didn't pop out of his pants right at this moment and jump his little brother right then and there.

See, normal people thought tall guys were clumsy and not all in sync with their limbs, and Dean would have also thought so had not the factor of watching Sammy hunt like he did. He still did think so - after all, it must've been some trick from Gabriel, that Angel - and he would most certainly slaughter that Trickster as soon as he had gotten out of this stupid, wretched dream he was forced to stand in the middle of.

Although, Dean was just blaming it on people now. That was only because he was very much sure that he was in real life and what he was seeing before his eyes was definitely not able to be conjured by anything other than his own very eyes at this very moment. In the beginning, Dean had been terrified that his little brother was hiding another demon under his arms; after all, he had been leaving early and coming back not until mid-day all sweaty and looking like he just took a couple of rounds with a werewolf. Dean just didn't know what was going on, but he always needed to find out if Sam was in trouble.

Now, don't get him wrong, he was totally cool with the fact that Sam was alright, but...

Hot _damn_ he was just freaking intoxicating.

Dean didn't care all too much when he realized that Sam had been going to the nearest gym every morning on this case to work out - hell, he had been prepared to turn around right then and there if it wasn't for...well...there wasn't really any way to explain it other than...

Sam was _dancing_.

It was professional. It was languid. It was...whatever words Sammy probably had stored in his geeky mind for the series of words that followed: beautiful, artistic, deep, emotional, whatever it was, Dean couldn't explain it. And he was a very manly man. Butch, Sam would constantly say. But this...It was something unknown to mankind. Actually that was kind of just about their life, but that's not what he had meant at all. It was just, standing outside of the mirrored-in area meant for lessons and all of that good shit watching his brother, clad in nothing except a loose pair of sweatpants he had stolen from another family for the younger's eighteenth birthday and void of any shoes or shirt, was more than he was able to handle.

Ah, somehow, he managed to handle it though. Dean didn't want to impose on what he was seeing and drag his brother back to their hotel and make sweet, sweet love to him, so he just stood outside with his hands across his chest. When anyone asked why the hell he was peeping on this attractive man, he proceeded to tell them that that man was his lover as well as dancing partner, and was more or less checking up on his progress. It was probably one of the worst things he had ever lied about - and the most disgusting, but he didn't care just yet.

Sam, of course, didn't notice him. So he was content on watching.

It was common knowledge that usually a dancer - minus the fact that Dean was talking about Sam there - usually only took to one type of dance to master, and left the others to just sheer knowledge, but Little Sammy did everything he could think of. Natural hunting left Sam to be light on his feet; quick, agile, format-stricken and perfectly proportioned, so he flowed freely with every constant step and move and twist and turn. At first when Dean had watched, it was only small little warm-ups, a couple types of fast-beating songs Dean had never heard of, and then _shit went down._

Literally.

Like, _to the floor._

On any other day catching Sam dancing to 'Hips Don't Lie' by Shakira would have been most laughable, but, right now, it was just simply fucking sexy as living hell. It was like Sam didn't have limbs, like he couldn't harbor them, like his hips weren't joined to his spine, like his jaw wasn't angled in any specific way and sweet mother of all things holy, that ass wasn't from this world. Even his feet - they were manly yet so perfectly fucking sculptured that Dean had to bite back a furious moan of ecstasy that threatened to pour from his lips at every catch of movement that Dean would possess in his orbs of green fire. God, it was just like an ocean, warm yet so fucking cold, washing over him.

He was being such a girly, high-strung bitch. But Dean had to admit it to himself, he didn't care.

That wasn't the only thing Sammy would dance to, though. Next on that little CD playlist on the boom-box next to the right corner Sam would bend down just right to change the song, and then freaking BAM. Dean was sure he could feel the ground vibrate underneath him. He glanced around quickly, but no one else seemed to acknowledge the sudden change only because they were either used to it or they didn't care because a hot piece of ass was dancing in front of them like sex reincarnate, so, Dean didn't care either.

He turned back and Sam was a literal pool of double-jointed pops and rolls and whatever the hell else he was doing - and couldn't help but start to feel the beginnings of cold sweat forming alongside his shoulders.

Dean had a feeling he would more or less be there for a while.

* * *

So, Sammy had just finished his literal sex-dance-act-of-sexiness and Dean continued to stare inside the glass like the moment he had walked in. The back that Dean had been watching for the past hour was now covered by a clean cut camo V-neck, the sweatpants now just hanging low enough for Dean to see that extremely sexy outline of his spine, sheer with that of sweat, and, as Sammy turned to leave, that 'v' that lead to places that Dean was sure to be in in less than fifteen minutes on the dot. Maybe less. At first, Sam kept his head low and, as he wiped the sweat off his face with the small towel provided from the gym, proceeded to walk out of the glass room like nothing had happened.

That was, of course, the very moment that Samuel Winchester glanced up to meet the eyes of a very predatory-looking-incestual-boyfriend-brother. Shocked, the younger brother stood in front of the glass door, still opened only because he was frozen in the middle of the only way in. Dean, however, leaned back and kicked back his heel in a sexy, all knowing smirk that he was sure to be wearing the rest of the day, and possibly the night.

"So, Sammy, how long has this been going on?" Dean's lip twitched slightly higher when Sam shifted, closing the door behind him sheepishly. He loved when his little brother was nervous, it made him all giddy inside knowing that he had the power to make his brother act like he did. After all, Sammy wasn't a easy man to make nervous. Agitated and annoyed and pitifully kind, yes, but not nervous. So this was just like the icing on the cake to be able to do this to him.

"Long enough." Sammy said gruffly. He himself tried to act annoyed because his older brother had not only been spying on him, but had followed him to the gym and stayed for the whole performance. But in the end, even Sam felt a small smile crack on his face like he couldn't give two shits that Dean had followed him.

Dean's grin blew up into an even bigger proportion and now it overwhelmed his whole entire face, eloping it with noting but brightness and promise of sex. Sammy, of course, was never one to deny his brother of his feelings.

"I'm assuming you have cleaned out the back of your car?"

"Now that you mention it..." Dean crept in a little closer, ignoring the strange look the receptionist was giving the two of them. "Why don't we go take a shower? I'm sure you need one."

"Oh, hell yes."

It was safe to say 'Jeff Canbolt' and 'Maxwell Kingston' were never allowed into the tiny gym in little ol' Dyer, Indiana never, ever again.


	2. Wincest: Toy Soldier

**Title:** Drabble(2) Toy Soldier

**Author:** D.R. Ward

**Date:** 10-7-13

**Age: **14

**SamXDean**: Teen Years (Sam 14, Dean 18)

**Summery:** Sam was upset the other day and ended up cramming a toy soldier into the ashtray of the rear right car door. Dean, who found it a while later, got angry at him - but when Sam shrugged it off saying he was just a tad bit upset with what he was thinking about, Dean realized he just had to figure out what it was.

* * *

**Toy Soldier**

_Drabble._

~oOo~

_Third Person POV _

* * *

"Sammy! What did I tell you about cramming shit in my car!?" Dean Winchester bellowed from the outside of the hotel so loud that Sam was sure the whole town could hear him. Smiling sheepishly to himself, a little ashamed, the long-haired kid sat up from his spot on the bed and slowly made his way over to the open door. He peeked his head out not a second too soon.

"Well, uh, Brother I..." Sam spoke softly as he hugged the side of the door as if it would prevent his brother's fury from reaching him. He didn't understand what was wrong - he was only trying to play around and he just...Uh...Played a little too hard?

"Sammy, I can't even get that thing outta there! How the hell did you do that?!" Dean complained as he struggled to get the little toy solder out of the compartment - only to fail multiple upon multiple times.

Sammy walked out of the hotel slowly, peering over the car to see his older brother hunched up inside of his Impala, trying to get the green object out. Though, he knew the older wouldn't be able to get the thing out due to the fact he had been trying for the past what, minute or two?

"I don't know, Dean. I was thinking about stuff and, uh, I kind of lost track of what I was doing?" Sam tried to explain, rounding the car to get a better look at the damage done. The first thing he noticed was Dean's large hand trying to pry out the head of the soldier, and, on any other circumstances he would have cracked up laughing and insinuated at how big his brother was, but he didn't think Dean would've liked that very much.

"What the hell were you thinking about, man? World War?" Dean finally gave up, knowing he wasn't going to get that little plastic thing out of the rear door ashtray. The teenager whined and plopped down in the backseat of his baby, inwardly saying sorry to his car at his brother's stupidity.

"No." Sam rolled his eyes and sat down tentatively on the curb next to the car. "Sorry." He apologized after a moment, his gaze cast downwards and more or less anywhere away from what might remind him of Dean.

Dean sighed and leaned back up so he could peer at his blood from the Impala's window. Sam was staring at nothing in particular across the way from the parking lot - maybe that tree - and he couldn't help but notice that under the long, brown bangs of his lover that there was a crestfallen gaze planted on Sammy's face. And no matter what the cause, Dean had to admit he didn't like seeing his boy all messed up like that. "Alright, so what's up?"

Sam slowly turned his gaze, unblinking, towards the teen sitting in the car. After a short pause Sammy's face light up in a smile and he shook his head, his hair bouncing on top of his face. "It's nothing, Dean." He reassured the green-eyed figure.

Dean stared at him with uncertainty. "Look, I won't be mad. What were you thinking about when you crammed that thing into my car?" He pretended he didn't notice when Sam's back immediately straightened up to a point.

"I said it's nothing." Sam sighed and stood from his spot on the curb, turning his back on Dean with more than a little attitude. "I'll go get our stuff. Dad'll be back in a bit, so it's almost time to go." He stuck his hands in his pockets and began walking to the hotel door with a twitching brow.

"Sammy, wait -... "

"It's Sam." Sammy yawned from the foot of the door. He waved his brother off without turning to look at him. "I'll be right back."

When Sam passed behind the view of the hotel door, Dean slumped against the lining of the back car door, feeling as if his body gave out on him. What was Sam so upset about? It must've been something fucking horrible if the kid mustered up enough strength to get that thing eternally stuck up in the ashtray. But the question actually was - what the hell could it have been?

Sammy came out a minute or so later with their bags in hand - his brand new laptop for researching whatever he could to help his father, Dean's almost empty backpack, Dad's slightly larger duffle bag, and Sam's other necessities sack. Dean stood from the car, keys in hand, and rounded it to reach the rear end of his baby. Sam followed almost instantly.

As Dean unlocked the piece of metal that hid all of their guns, Sam shifted his shoulders up to keep the bags in place. A soft 'click' was heard that lead to the taller teen to lift the trunk and the plastic covering that loomed over their line of work. In the small empty space left for their stuff Sam shrugged everything off and into the pit, Dean helping a little bit so nothing went crashing to the floor.

"So, why don't you tell me now? We have time to kill." Dean called to his retreating brother as he shut the trunk with care. Sam ignored him and slid into the back right seat of the car, closing the door behind him. Dean sighed. His brother better not do this the whole car ride.

Dean, instead of sliding into the passengers seat to the shotgun of Mrs. Impala, slid in next to his brother behind the drivers seat. Sam, slightly shocked, glanced at the teen who gave him a very serious, very scary stare. The long-haired teen gulped.

"What?" Sam asked when the other didn't speak.

"You know what." Dean replied instantly with a sharp twang to his tone, showing Sam that Dean _was not_ joking around.

Sam muttered something intelligible and shrugged, his pouting face beginning to appear. Dean's right eye twitched and he leaned back against the door of the car with crossed arms. "Just drop it, Dean, alright? It was nothing." He explained without meeting the eyes of his lover.

"Don't kid me, Sam. Just fucking tell me and this will go down a lot easier." The stubborn man pursued, and this time it was Sam who twitched in annoyance.

"Just shut up, will you? I don't want to talk about it!" Sam argued. He let out a small snarl in warning, but of course his stupid older brother didn't understand when to quit.

"Yeah, I got that vibe already. But I'm your brother, and your supposed to tell me everything that pisses you off!"

"And I'm also your lover, meaning there's stuff I don't want to talk about with you!" Sam continued to argue, both inside and outside his head, trying to get Dean to just shut up and leave him alone about it. After all, Dean would just laugh and tell him not to worry about it. 'Because she wasn't important,' he would say, Sam was sure.

"What? So this is about us?" Dean questioned suddenly, trying to fight off the wave of panic that led to his heart speeding up. Sam was upset about them? What if he was disgusted with his brother? What if he figured out that Dean was sick and never wanted to be around him again? The questions and the answered were endless, and Dean didn't want to hear any of them.

Sam paused for a second and then glanced at Dean, who appeared as if he was having a little mini break-down. "...Kirsten." Sam mumbled under his breath then, letting the word slip from his lips like a venom.

"What?" Dean asked, not hearing what Sammy really said.

"...It's Kirsten. She...You...I dunno, you looked good together." Sammy blushed and looked away, hoping that his lover was stupid enough not to get what he was saying.

But, of course, Dean was always a lot smarter than he led to think. "...Jealousy?" Dean said after a moment, pausing every thought that ransacked his mind. "Sammy, were you jealous?"

Sam flinched and sighed at the same time. "N-Not really. Just...I'd like to think that you could start your own family one day, yeah? Instead of being stuck here with us." He explained himself as he propped his knees up on the backseat that was facing him. His arms wrapped around himself protectively.

"Sam..." Dean sighed and scooted over to give his brother a sight hug. Sam immediately relaxed into the touch and leaned in to the teen's washboard abs, his head resting on the other's collarbone. "I would never leave you."

"That's not what I'm talking about, Dean. I'd be fine with that after a while, but it's just...Me and Dad are holding you back from what you really want."

"You don't know what I want!" Dean replied with a little venom. "Domestication isn't the life for us, and it never will be. I'd be bored stiff. Look, Sammy, I love you for you and I don't care if your my brother or lover or sister or the King of Sasquatch - your you and that's who I want to spend my time with." Dean answered, trying not to think about how much of a chick flick moment this was and how much it was taking a blow to his pride.

But then again, it appeared like Sam needed it right now.

Sam was still uncertain, and he would always be uncertain. There was nothing that could change the kid's thoughts about his brother's life and what he wanted, but that was just him. Dean apparently didn't think that way, and he probably never would.

And as they look back on it to this day, Dean was sure that that 'I love you' right after his speech was possibly the most important 'I love you' he had ever received.


End file.
